Coming Out
by SaraBarns
Summary: Romano doesn't know what to do with his new feelings, and they're making him nervous. He resolves to tell Spain what's on his mind, but is still worrying about what will happen if the Spanish nation doesn't want to hear what Romano has to say. Title is pretty self-explanatory. Spamano if you squint.


"_S-Spagna_, I have to talk to you," I said quietly, my hands fisted into tight balls around the fabric of my trousers.

Maybe he wouldn't hear me. Then I could leave... and it would be like I'd never said anything at all.

My entire body trembled, and I wondered at just how the tomato bastard hadn't already heard my sniffles. He was usually the first one at my side when I was upset. W-Which was rare, of course, because I was a strong Italian nation, and I-I didn't cry.

"Not now, _mi poco tomate_," Spain sighed, waving me off without even looking up from the parchment he was scanning intently. "Boss Spain is busy. Go talk to Bella, _sí_?"

I gritted my teeth, even as my heart felt like it was being torn in two at the dismissal.

With one hand I tore the apron from my waist (I was supposed to be helping Belgium cook) and with the other, I shoved the vase to my left off its plinth.

It shattered all across the stone floor, and Spain looked up, truly startled.

His emerald eyes were wide, and I stared into them as they grew dark with anger at what I'd done. Then I remembered why I'd done it in the first place.

"I-I..." I stammered, before my throat closed up with the pressure of unshed tears.

Am _wrong_.

Am _sick_.

Don't know what to _do_.

Want your _help_.

Spain's expression morphed from one of anger to one of concern as the tears started pouring down my cheeks silently.

"R-Roma?" he asked hesitantly, dropping the quill back on the table and rising from the large wooden desk chair he had been sitting in before. "What's the matter, _pequeño_?"

"I wanted to _talk_ to you," I repeated, becoming even more upset upon finding my voice cracking and sounding stuffy from my congested nose.

I needed to talk to _someone_.

I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside.

Everyone told me it was wrong…

Why did it keep feeling so _right_?

What was _wrong_ with me?

Why couldn't I _stop_ it?

"About what, what is it?" he asked, crossing to kneel in front of me, his maybe twenty-year-old human form now shorter than my fourteen-year-old body stood presently. "It's not Turkey, is it? France? Is it your country? Romano, tell Boss Spain, what's wrong?"

"I..." I hesitated once again.

What if Spain thought I was despicable?

What if they were right, and I was unnatural and wrong?

Maybe I shouldn't tell him after all.

I... I think I made a mistake in coming here.

This was a _bad_ idea.

I'm a _coward._

_Filthy._

_Unnatural._

_Wrong._

_Sick._

_Unholy._

"Never mind," I choked out, turning to leave, preferably to run back to my room and never come out again. "I don't want to talk about it anymore!"

It was a lie. But if I could prevent the disgust I was expecting to receive for my news, it might be worth a little more internal suffering.

Maybe.

"Romanito, wait," Spain called, and a large hand caught hold of my wrist, preventing me from fleeing the scene. "What is going on? I won't just let this go. You're upset. Tell Boss Spain what it is."

"N-No, I _can't_!" I protested, struggling feebly against his restrictive hold on my arm. "You bastard, l-let me go!"

"No," the older nation said firmly, his eyes burning into mine with an intense concern I couldn't bear to look at. I glared down at the stone flooring until he turned my face back to his own. "What has you so worked up, _tomate_?" he wondered aloud.

"I-It's nothing!" I lied, attempting to pry his fingers from my wrist with my other hand now. "I was j-joking! That's all! You can go back to d-doing your work now, dammit!

"It's not Ita-chan, is it?" Spain continued, ignoring my protests. "Are you jealous of your brother again? I already told you, Roma, I won't trade…"

"NO! It's not my stupid brother!" I shouted. "J-Just stop it!"

"No," the personification of España frowned, pulling me into a tight embrace unexpectedly. "I need to know what has you so upset. You're still crying, Roma!"

Yes, I was crying.

I wasn't right.

I was impure.

I was a _demon_.

"You were going to tell me before," Spain reasoned, holding me at arm's length and observing my face again. "Why not tell me now? I won't let you leave until you do, Roma."

I felt sick to my stomach.

These feelings… they weren't natural.

I didn't want them, but I had them.

Spain didn't understand.

He wasn't listening to me.

I told him to stop asking me… the frustration was too much to take, though.

"FINE!" I shouted, unable to handle more of his calm voice. "I... I have indecent feelings for men! T-The kind everyone says I should only have for women!"

I cursed myself for my impulsiveness.

But it was too late now.

I might as well tell him everything.

"I... I watch men when they walk and I can't help but think about their parts, and I have those special d-dreams you told me about, but they aren't always about women!" I watched his face closely for any sign of disapproval, but didn't see one yet. "I'm disgusting! The church says so! I'm supposed to marry a woman and have children! It's... It's wrong to have these thoughts about men!"

"Roma..." Spain said carefully, eyeing me strangely. "Roma, that's not..."

"They said it's not right, _Spagna_, and it's not, it's not_ right!_ I-I don't know what to _do_!" I panicked aloud, sharing all the thoughts that plagued me between shallow breaths. "They'll stone me! Burn me at the stake! Leave me in the streets to rot... Throw me in the ocean, or in a big pit..."

"Romano," Spain said sharply, smoothing down my hair in an attempt to soothe me. "Roma, calm down. None of those things are true."

"But they are!" I gasped, "They are and the pope told me so when I asked him! He said it's unholy and not what He intended any of us to do!"

"Roma... It is perfectly natural to... enjoy both men and women. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it, in fact." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Roma, did _the pope_ raise you?"

"_Wha_- No, but what does that have to..."

"Well guess what; _I_ raised you, _pequeño_, not him, so you can trust me first." he stared into my eyes, and said, "It's not unnatural. Not at all. It's just a little less… public, for most people."

"B-But the pope, he said..." I sniffled, swiping my sleeve across my dripping nose.

"I don't _care_ what the pope said, Romano." Spain said firmly.

"You're Catholic _too_, though!" I protested, struggling to push his arms away from me. "You're supposed to _listen_ to the pope! He... He knows what he's talking about!"

"No, Romano, _I_ know what _I'm_ talking about. And I know that it's wrong to tell anybody they are unholy or unnatural. Do you think that's what He would have wanted?" Spain said fervently, "There is _absolutely nothing_ wrong with you, _mi tomate_. You're my Romanito and you are perfect just as you are. Just because you see things differently doesn't make you wrong."

"But it's not natural," I whispered, the tears still coming, even as Spain's words worked their soothing magic. "I can't... have a family with a man. I can't protect a man, I can't have a child with a man... It's not meant to be that way! I-I still like girls, I like looking at them and thinking about them, but it scares me that I feel like I could fall in love with a man too!"

"Shh, _pequeño_," Spain hummed, pulling me into a tight embrace and stroking my hair. "There's nothing to be scared of. It's perfectly natural to feel the way you do. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"B-But it doesn't feel _right_! Bastard, you don't get it!" I shouted, pounding my ineffective fists against his back in an attempt to make him release me.

"Yes I do, Romanito," Spain sighed, holding me at arm's length and looking into my eyes affectionately.

"W-What? But how...?" I gasped.

"Romano, how about you tell me something," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. "How many people do you think like me?"

"What k-kind of stupid-assed question is _that_, bastard?" I demanded, rubbing at my eye irritably before crossing my arms.

"Just answer it, Romanito. How many people like me?"

"W-Well..." I paused to think. Spain had lots of friends. "You always talk to that piano bastard and Miss Hungary,"

Spain smiled. "That's right, Austria and Hungary. Who else, _pequeño_?"

"Bella a-and Daan," I frowned, before correcting myself. "Er... just Bella. And... Feliciano and those two perverted bastards you call friends!"

"Yes, that's right, Belgium -sometimes the Netherlands appreciates me,- Ita-chan, and Francis and Gilbert! Ah, but you're missing someone, Romanito," Spain said knowingly.

"P-Portugal?" I guessed, shrugging a little to indicate my ignorance.

"Well yes, Portugal," Spain agreed, before smiling again and patting my cheek. "And you, Romano. You like me, don't you?"

"Maybe," I pouted, looking away from him to try to hide my blush.

"Ah, I know you like me on the inside, Roma," Spain sighed happily. "But anyway. Do you see? All those people like me, and I'm just like you. Did you know that?"

"J-Just like me... how?" I asked hesitantly.

"_Can you keep a secret_?"

I nodded.

"I think men are attractive too, Roma," Spain whispered, smiling reassuringly as I gaped at him. "And now that you know this... and you know all of those people still like me... now do you believe me, _pequeño_?"

"I-I..." I hesitated again.

It was a lot to digest.

Did all those nations really know Spain was... that he... liked men too?

"Aren't most of those people the same people who care about you?" Spain prodded, as he caught one of my hands in his, and rubbed his thumb in circles around my palm.

"Yes..." I agreed, but still wasn't convinced.

"Roma... do you really think any one of them would hold this against you?" Spain reasoned. "Does it really matter to you what the pope thinks, what the humans think? You'll outlive them all anyway. You already have outlived millions of them, right?"

"Right..." I sighed, and closed my eyes, trying to focus on what I was feeling now, and found my hand curling around Spain's sleeve tightly.

I flung myself into his arms and buried my face in his shirt, seeking comfort from the foreign feeling of terror that still overwhelmed me.

"I-I don't know what to do!" I cried, as his arms wrapped around me once more. "I don't know what to f-feel, and it's all so n-new..."

"Shh, it's okay, Roma, I'll be here the whole time." Spain soothed. "If you need to talk to me about anything or ask me about something you don't know, you can do that! I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. You're okay. It's okay. I'll help you with this. Alright?"

"A-Alright, you stupid t-tomato bastard," I sniffed, pulling out of his grasp and looking him in the eyes. "Just for the record, t-this never happened!"

"Of course not," Spain said, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I won't tell a soul!"

"G-Good, you better not!" I affirmed, nodding firmly to emphasize. "N-Now, go pick me some more tomatoes! We... we ran out."

"Ah, I would, but it's so lonely out in that big field, Roma," Spain sighed dramatically, and threw an arm over his eyes. "It would be so much more fun if I had someone to help me..." He cracked an eye, and smiled knowingly as I fidgeted before nodding my assent.

"Fine, but just because you're a lazy bastard!" I proclaimed.

"Yay~! Let's go, then, _mi tomate_~!" Spain cheered, seizing my hand, leaving the broken vase and his parchment behind as we rushed through the Spanish mansion to reach the back garden.

"Hey, u-um, bastard," I said hesitantly, as we stepped outside. "_G-Grazie_. I... I really appreciate it."

"Of course, Romanito," Spain positively beamed. "Anything to help you."

"Daan doesn't like you though, you know," I smiled, as Spain handed me a basket and a sun hat. "That's one less person who still likes you."

"Oh, you wound me!" the older personification wailed theatrically, clutching at his chest as though I'd physically dealt him a blow. "But that's okay. Because I have you, my little Roma, and you're more than enough as it is."

"Cheesy bastard," I muttered, but didn't argue.

* * *

**A/N:** A-Ah, hi, it's me again~! This was sort of an angsty delay for me that was stopping me from working on any of my OTHER numerous stories that actually have people waiting avidly for more chapters, but... ah, I couldn't hold this in.

This little oneshot was inspired by my coming out as a bisexual to my best friend, usually mentioned as "my Gilbert" in my other stories, because she was so okay with it. I really didn't know what to do with myself, and I didn't know what I was, so she talked me through it and it helped a lot. Ah, it's just been so... ON my mind lately, and I was so nervous about it... I wanted to write it down. Haha, my mom dragged me to church last Sunday and I almost had an internal meltdown for the irrational fear that they'd somehow KNOW I'd... you know, picked my teams, but they didn't. I'm not even REALLY all that scared about what they'd do if any of them found out, because I go to a Catholic church, so they're not so bad, but it still makes me really nervous to think about it. I, ah, haven't told my parents yet either... it's just one of those things you never know what they'll say about it until you ask, eh? I just... ugh. It's been sitting on me so badly. It's not the kind of thing people around me are telling me are WRONG, exactly, but I don't really know how my parents would react if I told them (even though they seem to think "Gilbert" and I are already lesbian. xD). On top of that, a few of my relatives (aunts, a great aunt, a second cousin) are REALLY religious, and I don't know how THEY'D react either. It's just sort of an elephant in the metaphorical room that is my mind right now. Hard to deal with. But I knew at least some of you guys would understand, having read the kind of stuff I'm sure most of you do on this site, lol.

So, ah, thanks for listening to me ramble... and please, please please please no hate reviews, I really don't think I'd be able to handle it.


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